About real love: Love is the foundation of the Universe. In every plant, in every animal, in every bird, insect, fish or even worm, you can see the smooth fabric of love. Even in rocks, in water, in stars and in air, love has pierced its roots. We are made of love and we should spread this love around us.

The Book Before The Earth

My name is Nicotiana Ana and I live in the mountains at the end of the world. This is the land of legends and myths, the land between the sword and the rainbow. Not many people dare to go this deep, but one did. He is Alia Atan, my husband (as our papers say). We are sfenists, a very rare sexual minority. We have passed through fire and ice and now we have rebuilt our lives, with this new identity. I work on the railway and he works at the mine, as a Geological expert. I never imagined that one day I will meet another sfenist and have a chance to live a happy life. What is the foundation of a sfenist relation? Love. But not the carnal love found in any classic couple. It is the most pure form of love, combined with a strong affection and the will to imitate each other. Passion exists, but in complete different way. We, sfenists, look and don't touch. We love but don't make love. It is like the difference between sexy and porn, between desire and fulfillment or between a burning cigarette and an incendiary. There is something inside us, that creates a very strong attraction force, but forbids us from colliding together. We are like a binary planet, two planets orbiting together one around the other, locked forever in this cosmic dance, but never touching each other. A natural equilibrium that formed from itself and will remain forever. Stars will become red giants and will explode, but we will remain as before.

I chosen my name as Nicotiana Ana and I obtain this name with the help of bribery. Yes, I am a convinced smoker and I started smoking at 6. Since that time, it influenced completely my life. I survived in harsh time by producing and selling contraband cigarettes and I convinced over 100 people to start smoking. In my native language, aana actually means 'pocket fire' (lighter or match). I can say that my brother is Nicotiana tabacum, the plant that I smoke and my sister is Nicotiana nana, a beautiful flower. If you come to me, beware! You will start smoking, no matter how much you fight against it. I definitely am a woman that has just passed over 20, but many people say that I have the soul of a man... and the eyes of a wounded dog. About my (official) husband, with the same expensive bribery, he changed his name into Alia Atan. Somehow, there are two persons living in the same body, or more precisely, a single soul with two faces. When he is alone or surrounded by other people, he is Atan, a man. But when he is with me, he becomes Alia, the woman. He is a transgender that returns to his real male status when he wishes, even if he has the soul of a woman.

What does the word sfenist actually mean in my language? It means untouchable. And really that is. But, slowly, we get to touch one each other. I know this will not get too far, at least not as far as in a classic relation. The two planets will approach a bit, maybe even more, but will never collide.

What made us sfenists? Nobody is born as a sfenist. It takes something extremely violent to occur in your life, to transform you beyond recovery. And usually, that something is a sexual abuse. After this, some people cannot return to what they were. For me, it took years to be able to live a normal life, but it will be impossible to have a classic relationship with a guy, ever. However, after that, I was no longer the former me. I was no longer a cute shy girl playing with dolls and trying to look pretty. I became a wild animal. It was my growing hate for men that prevented me from becoming a transgender. But for Alia - Atan, things were different. The fact that he was abused by a man, a gay, probably made him come closer to his feminine side and develop a strong pantyhose addiction. Even as Atan, he wears pantyhose candid. To make him happy, I wear them too, all time.

We meet at the end of the autumn. Then, in winter, we made our marriage papers, without any celebration. It was vital for him, to get citizenship here. Now, we are at the beginning of spring. Our love story continues and will keep on going to the end of our lives and even beyond that.

**********************************************************

I am in the railway station, waiting for the evening train to return from the mine. Alia - Atan will return soon. I have everything prepared, like always. The food is ready on plates, the clothes for him, all what he needs. I sit inside the station, while a few people stay outside and wait the train. I am smoking, but the cigarette will be finished soon. Outside, the sky is part cloudy, part clear. The huge mountains rise their white tops towards the sky. Snow is melting around. I hear the train approaching, as it trembles on the old, unrepaired rails. An engine carries 3 rusted wagons. This train is our only connection to the outer world.

He jumps out of the train. I signal nearby stations that the train arrive and will continue its route, then I signal the train to go downstream. We cross the bridge that separates the station and our house. I invite him to the house, to change from Atan into Alia. Then, we go to the kitchen, where we eat the food that I placed on the table in time. This is a routine that we do since we are together. The train schedule is what forces people here to have a schedule in their lives. As it is a sign of respect, we don't speak until we finish eating. Then, we go to the house.

He, as Alia, is dressed with a yellow knee-long dress with long sleeves, with a polychrome woman shirt beneath. To make the dress look as worn by a woman, he has a bra filled with ripped parts of old clothes, sewed on the inside. He wears demi-opaque pantyhose, with a shiny light brown color. He has white plastic open-toe sandals, to wear when he leaves the house. I am dressed in a black and white knee-long dress, with a pink sweater wit ha zipper. I also wear pink pantyhose that match the sweater and green open-toe sandals, to wear outside. We both have our hair made in a color between green and yellow and with the same length: nearly touching our shoulders. We just add a lipstick and if anyone would enter the room, will think that we are both women. The only thing that betrays Atan is now his masculine bass voice. Everything else looks like if he really is a woman.

"I have a new game", I say. "Can you smoke a cigarette to the end without putting it out of your mouth and without touching it with your hands?"

"Could try, Nicotiana", he says.

"That should be fun!" I say, taking two handmade cigarettes from my pack.

"This will make us two thermal plants or two volcanoes", he says.

"Here goes, Alia! A pretty girl must use the glamour of smoking to its maximum power".

We both put a cigarette in our mouths and light it. We are not allowed to touch it. Both cigarettes become bright and then dim. Smoke gets out through our nostrils, in small, repeated waves. Ash accumulates slowly. He moves closer to the ashtray, waiting and gently moving his head, hoping to somehow make the ash fall. I simply get closer to the stove and sit on the floor, with my head placed in such a way that the ash will fall on the floor. He comes near me. Smoke continues to get out through our nostrils at every breath.

This is a completely different experience then classic smoking. When you inhale, the air you need to push smoke deep inside you, comes through your nose, only the smoke gets through your mouth. The aroma lasts more in your mouth. And when you exhale, since all the smoke gets through your nostrils, you feel it more. You cannot exhale completely and you cannot take a deep drag. At every breath, you will try to inhale small amounts of smoke and exhale it. So, there is always some smoke inside you.

We keep on doing this, until all that remains is the filter and nothing more. The small room gets a dizzy haze of smoke inside.

"That was very interesting", he says, taking the filter out of his mouth.

"It is the first time I do this with someone", I say, looking at the used filter.

He takes his filter close to mine. Both are brown on the interior and both show traces of lipstick on the exterior.

"I think they look the same", I say, with a smile.

"As you said once. Two lungs beat as one. Here, two filters beat as one, only that heir lifetime has ended".

"That was their purpose", I say.

"Amazing how many things you can do with a cigarette. No surprise that you are Nicotiana".

As he speaks, his mouth has a smell of smoke. Just as mine. I like that smell. It is like a part of me has moved inside him.

"Alia, do you remember how strong willed were you against smoking?" I ask without smiling.

"Yes, I do", he says. "And I remember how you tried to kill me if I would not start".

"How do you feel about it now?"

"The only thing I regret is that I didn't start before. I never imagined that there can be a pleasure in this. I thought it only is a horrible addiction that will only lead to my death. Now, I see everything is different".

"That is what people told you, in the world you lived before", I say with mild words. "But tell me, honestly, Alia: Is drinking better or worse then smoking?"

"Honestly, Nicotiana, I've seen many alcoholics in my life. They tend to ruin their lives. Families abandon them, then they sell everything for alcohol. Basically, they end-up working only to drink their money. Usually, they live with their parents or with a very good husband or wife, that feeds them and manages the house for them. But when they are left alone, they quickly leave their homes unrepaired or sell them for alcohol. I've seen them sleeping on the streets in large cities, in ruined homes in rural areas and many times in trash bins. They beg for mercy on the streets and are parasites for the society".

"Very true", I answer him. "I've seen thousands of families broken because of alcohol. But have you seen a single family destroyed because of smoking?"

"To be honest, yes", he answers me. "I've seen a girl. Her parents removed her from her boyfriend because he was smoking. And then forced her to marry someone else. In the end, the girl went suicide. And not to mention our case. My parents are strongly against you because you smoke".

This makes me say nothing, but I instinctively light another cigarette. I remember the pain I've seen in his parents. And even if months have passed, I still see them with the eyes of my heart. They kneel in front of an icon every day and cry... and cry... and pray with an opened religious book in front of them. They do this every day, crying over and over and over. The only thing they want is Alia - Atan back to them. They want me away from him. And why? Because I smoke, because I am from a dangerous place of the world and because I am poorer then him. And because of my religion, maybe. As my parents advised me, at a few days, when I am alone, I send them a message about us. I tell them that he is fine or no (he was sick at a point), about how I am, about the weather here and other things in our lives. Well, I don't tell them about his feminine side, of course. I usually try to avoid reading their messages, but sometimes I do. And nothing has changed. Just a few days ago, they answered me with this phrase:

Just drop dead, you infamous bitch! You took the light of our eyes away from us! You took an innocent man, daughter of the devil. Not even all the fires of hell are enough for your sins. Just for how long are you going to pour venom into his blood? Couldn't you take a rat or a shit from the toilette or something at your level to marry? Why do you do this to us? Just die! Die and never ever dare to say any word! At some point your witchcraft will fall and all the demons you serve will come and take your soul. You know it well and there is no way out! Just jump into an abandoned fountain or hang up yourself, if you still have some humanity inside you. May you be eaten by worms alive!

Even so, I still send them messages, without telling him anything.

"Is there anything wrong, Nicotiana?" he asks me.

"No, there is no problem", I say.

"I don't think so. There is something inside you and I feel it".

Should I tell him? Maybe no. They are his parents and I know how much he loves them. Just as much as they love him. But, he is the closest thing I have. So, let's try.

"Nothing. Just that I remembered your parents".

"Ah, that is it", he says, with a sober voice. "You know that there is nothing we can do about them".

"Don't you suffer for them?"

"I do. But there is nothing I can do. So, I try to forget that they even exist. But I just cannot do this. This is why I ask you to delete messages from them, so I won't see".

"I know. And I deleted them from time to time".

"I thought about changing my mail address, but if I do that, I will lost all contacts with them. I just hope that, just like in other cases, after some years, they will calm down and accept us as we are".

"I removed the messages, but I dared to read some of them", I say, as taking a final drag from my cigarette. "they keep on crying and asking you to return".

He takes a sad look at me, then says:

"Maybe I should try to answer them".

"I tried to send them messages, to tell them that we are ok".

"You did what?" he says, surprised.

"I tried to contact them. But all I get, is endless ugly words like drop dead, you, bitch and others".

"Why did you do that? Why did you send messages to them?"

"I thought that this will give them a sense of security, if they know we are ok. At least, they will know how you are".

"Nicotiana, thank you for thinking at my parents, after all they did to you. But still I cannot send them a message yet. I love them too much and this will break my heart. We passed the gates of never returning when we got the marriage certificate. There is no turning back now. I just need time, before I can send them a message back. Maybe a few months".

"No problem, Alia", I say, while taking two cigarettes, one for each of us. "Just let things happen on naturally. Now, are you ready for another smoking experiment?"

I change the subject to a smoking experiment, to take both of us out of this mood. This is like covering the wounds of his soul with a mask. The wounds are still there, but at least he will not scratch them, to make them wider.

"I have an idea", I say, giving his cigarette. "Will you smoke me?"

"Will I what?" he asks.

"Just do as I do!"

I take his hand, in fact his sleeve, which I pull a bit beyond his fingers. Then I take a deep inhale and take my mouth close to his sleeves. I blow the smoke inside, as it gets out through the fabric of his clothes. Then, he does the same with me. I feel the heat of his breath, then I see the smoke getting out. A small cloud makes its way to my breasts. We play this game for a bit. We blow smoke one in each other, even in ourselves. All takes a few minutes, until our cigarettes run out.

"I have another idea", he says, taking two cigarettes. "Just watch me".

Well, even if I am Nicotiana, I cannot smoke continuously. But for him, I will do it. What kind of game is he up to this time? He takes only one puff, then takes the cigarette below his feet. He slowly moves each foot, so that the smoke will impregnate in his pantyhose.

"You said smoke enters our feet from the inside", he says. "Now, it enters even from the outside".

Well, let me play his game. Why not? I try to do the same, to move my cigarette forward and backward, along my feet, so that the smoke tends to get to their surface. To make this more effective, we also take a few drags from time to time.

"This is something I've never tried", I say with a big smile.

"My invention. It is the result of a second of inspiration".

This is how it happens in every evening, when he comes home. And we talk, we talk over and over in every day. What do we talk? About everything. And if we don't talk, we just keep on looking one at each other. Each day, the reason of our existence seems to be this time, the evening, when we are together and spend some quality time. Our two fetishes, our two addictions, have reached an incredible level.

Many would say that this is insane, but this is the way we find most normal. I learned a lot of things from him, for example his huge passion for Astronomy. This is not a thing to do for a woman, but I like it, because it is his passion. When he is free, he does the best to help me at everything in the house. We cook together. And as the spring will come, we will be growing tobacco, to make cigarettes and sell them to Stromboli. The process is not easy. I do this in every year. Even more, I make seedlings and give them to people in the village. Then, in late summer, they bring me tobacco leaves and I buy them. It is a business that generates money. Of course Stromboli gets the largest income, but this is how business are done anywhere. Well, I've seen in civilized world, a pack of original cigarettes is 4 to 5 $, while here, you get 4 or 5 packs for a $.

I just can't wait for the spring, to start the work! How amazing should it be! We, together, working in agriculture, staying all day together! As soon as temperature rises enough, there is far less demand for coal and the mines almost close down. He will be free more time, until autumn.

**********************************************************

My official name is Alia Atan. I had once a life, that now is dead and abandoned. I grew-up at a border province of the Civilized World. I came to the mountains at the End Of The World for only one reason: to runaway from my parents. They do love me and the only reason for their existence is me. But, they love the idea of me, not the person that I am.

I am a sfenist, but my parents never understood this. Once, they tried to marry me. They forced me to have sex with a girl that I didn't want, forced me to get into an engagement... and wedding should happen a few months later. But I found out she was cheating me... And I managed to escape.

I will never forgive my parents for that.

On the other hand, since I came here and I am with Nicotiana, a woman that my parents really hate, their lives have become a nightmare. Every day, they cry for hours and pray to God that somehow I will return to them. I love them as much as they love me. But what can I do? That former life is gone for me. It is like the former me is dead, together with my former name that I had before coming here. I have memories from my childhood and as a teen age, but they are the memories of another person. The only real thing are my parents. There is no way to erase them from myself. I know there is no way to make peace with them, other then to die my life here and resurrect my previous life. But I know where that life will end. They will force me get a job there, get married against my will and... most of all... get rid of Nicotiana.

Do I love her? More then anything. Are we friends? Yes, the best friends that ever existed on this planet. Are we lovers? No.

My coworkers from the mine think she is a witch and twisted my mind. Something contributes to this more then all: the fact that I life a double life. When I am with her, I am Alia, a woman in the body of a man. I dress like a girl and behave like one. But when I am alone, I am Atan, a man. This double identity puzzles many people around. They are sure that Nicotiana made me act like this, but in fact it is my own will. Another thing that they immediately spotted, is that, even if we are so close, we live in chastity. They simply don't understand how this is possible... and most of all, the fact that this is our own wish.

These months, I've seen men beating their heads while looking at us, saying that this is impossible, but also real. I've seen women that cried while looking at us, seeing this as a perfect love story. The first time they've seen me dressed as a woman was the tip of the iceberg. Now, as they see us so bounded in this relation, but realize that there is almost only spiritual love, it is like a tsunami wave heating the mountains. I won't be surprised to see on day the trains derailing because of the shock wave.

About this place, it really is incredible. People are not savages, as one might expect. It is true that they are poor and don't have access to school, but they do have a completely different life psychology. In the Civilized World, people are more slaves then here. There, you cannot move anything, even a finger. Here, if someone attacks you, you have the right to fight back, even the right to kill. Yes, money has a different value. A worker's salary is between 50 and 130 $, but the life is far cheaper. People have small, low houses, much more easy to maintain. And people don't go to a supermarket to purchase what they need. They exchange everything between them and not for money. They exchange milk for bread, grains for cement, coal for dried tobacco, diesel fuel for clothes, everything for everything. Not even salaries are always paid in money. I got paid in diesel fuel once. What religion they have? This is a hard question. Muslims, Christians, Idolaters, anything. If there is a celebration, they will all go, no matter what religion they have. And all this happens so natural. Really amazing! I bet it is the only place in the world where you see this.

And about Nicotiana? She is really amazing. She is pretty enough to make many guys to get mad, but she is a sfenist. In many regards, in the house, she is the cock and I am the hen, a thing that many guys will never accept. But I do, because I always was dominated by my parents. They chosen for me what school to follow and where to work. And she is doing everything possible to make me happy. When I was engaged with that girl, I stopped wearing pantyhose, as I always do, but I told her how much I love that clothing item... and she never worn pantyhose, even in the coldest winters. When she did once, I wanted to touch her feet and she didn't allow me to do this. Nicotiana is far different. Since she discovered my fetish, she is always covering her feet with a layer of pantyhose and always wearing skirts or dresses. Only that I long dream of her letting me touch her feet. To hold them in my hands. Will that ever happen? Who knows?

Life here is linked to this railway. It is the artery of life for all people around. There is a road, suitable only for horse carriage or an SUV. Nothing else can pass through. People carry everything in these trains. For passengers, there are four pairs of trains every day, be them only with passenger wagons or mixed with cargo wagons: a pair at night, a pair in morning, a pair at noon and a pair at evening. Additional cargo trains travel when they are needed and often they have a wagon for passengers. Sometimes, however, people just travel on the diesel engine. Despite being so old, rusted and not repaired and despite the railway being so damaged, trains keep on going. When something happens, people come and help to repair. Many times, trees have fallen on the rails or the railway foundation got eroded. People step out of the train and do their best to repair it. If the engine or a wagon has problems, people immediately come and see if they can help. And in many cases, with the help of many amazing technical inventions, they make the trains keep going.

Her smoking addiction is far beyond anything I've seen. Really, no other person in this world has such a strong addiction to this. So many smoking techniques she knows. And we experiment them almost every day. I now share her fetish at a higher and higher degree. And she can change every conversation into something related to smoking.

For example, I once was talking with her about Astronomy. I told her about solar flares and corona mass ejections. She questioned me about other stars.

"Yes, every star has flares, smaller or larger. The small M - type dwarfs produce huge flares, that can make them bright even 100 times".

"That sounds good for me", she says. "I am a small star and I blow massive flares of smoke".

"Larger stars also have flares. Red giants and blue giants blow an entire nebula around them".

"Is there any star that does not smoke flares?"

"I guess no", I answer. "White dwarfs seem not to, but once in years or even millennia, they produce a nova, which is a gigantic flare. And neutron stars, they produce gamma ray bursts".

"Well, Alia, it looks like every star does smoke. So, we, humans, should smoke too".

"I think not only stars. Even planets lose some of their atmospheres. There are icy moons with volcanoes that blow matter into the cosmos. And about comets, you know very well how they behave".

"Even black holes and quasars blow something. So, it looks for me that the whole Universe is smoking".

"I guess you are right".

When it comes about smoking, she has it all. Multiple drags, soft exhales, everything. She always changes the technique. Sometimes she takes fast inhales, holding the smoke long enough. Other times, she takes a double drag. When she does this, she lets the smoke out not once, but twice. What I like the most is when she does not inhale all. When this happens, she lets a small cloud of smoke out of her mouth. Usually, this happens not intentioned. But there are cases when she makes a thin trail of smoke out of her mouth. Sometimes, she lets smoke out of her mouth and inhales it through her nose. She likes to blow smoke in me and her mouth always has a smell of smoke. At first, I didn't like it, but now I am addicted.

A few days ago, I came with another idea. I took a cigarette and moved it beneath my feet, so that the smoke will somehow get into the pantyhose fabric. She did the same. In the morning, when I woke-up to go to work and changed my clothes, I changed to some clean pantyhose. I took the old ones and smelled them. It was a complex smell, a mixture containing their natural smell, some sweat and the smell of smoke. It shocked me. I always loved the smell of pantyhose when you open them, but this one was so different, like nothing ever touched my nostrils.

**********************************************************

Such things simply cannot resist in a classic relationship. In any couple where is love, some sort of energy accumulates and creates a powerful charge, waiting to erupt. In a classic relation, some energy is discharged as sex occurs. In a platonic relation, things never reach such a level. Everything stops by mutual agreement before much energy can accumulate, to prevent a massive burst. Sfenist relations are far more different. Well, it all depends on the wounds that each one has. It is this energy, that might be called affection, that builds all and holds everything together.

However, for any sort of relationship to exist, between any kind of people, there is one essential rule: that love must exist. Not sensual love, which is the result of the hormones in our bodies, but the real, essential and pure love. Without it, nothing can ever exist.